This is the day I'm supposed to make sweet holiday wishes. You know, I have placed my birthday second for 30-some years, so screw that. I'm going to talk about my birthday.
Another year has passed, leaving me nothing to show but scars. The annoyingly optimistic are certain to pipe up some happy nonsense about lessons, but, really? In my experience, people rarely have the sense to learn from their experiences.
Some of us seem driven to search for a reason for everything. In the past, I have seen propagation of our most dearly held beliefs as the ultimate logical conclusion to the natural evolutionary drive to procreate: as humans, we can make some conscious decisions about what is worth preserving for future generations. This is the top of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, the pointy tip of the pyramid. Ultimately, though, I can only conclude that mankind's vaunted self-awareness is mere delusion. Humanity's ability to think about his condition seems to have gained him little except being able to understand he is miserable.
Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." This man, supposedly one of the greatest of philosophers, also used his last toast to wish some nonsense about a happy afterlife after he poisoned himself for being such an annoyance to his city. I think any utterance from such a source must be suspect.
Life. It passes. Here's to ignorance.